Dao of Money

City Lord Xiangrui of Goldspire City woke with a smile already fixed on his face.

His gaze drifted lazily across the gold-clad chamber, lingering a little longer on every polished surface and carefully displayed treasure. Artifacts rested on velvet stands, gemstones were set into the very walls, and sheets embroidered with golden thread caught the morning light. He always made a point of looking at them first. It grounded him. Reminded him of his wealth, his taste, and his greatness—things he had accumulated over a life just shy of a thousand years.

Satisfied, he rose from the bed and strode toward the doors, where one of his maids was already waiting. Unlike him, she didn’t look radiant this early in the morning, but she was among the prettier ones, which was why she had been assigned to him. She bowed lightly as she entered, placing a freshly prepared steak and a glass of juice onto the table with practiced precision.

Xiangrui barely spared the food a glance as he moved straight into the adjoining bathroom.

Mirrors lined every wall.

As the lord of Goldspire City, merely looking presentable was not enough. No, he had to look perfect. Anything less would be an insult to his status.

He produced a bowl of spirit water and plunged his face into it without hesitation. The liquid shimmered faintly as it absorbed impurities. After several minutes, he straightened, wiping his face dry, a pleased smile tugging at his lips.

Then the real routine began.

He cleaned his teeth meticulously. With a controlled release of qi, he trimmed every strand of hair on his body—everywhere except his head—until his skin was flawless. Next came a sequence of qi-infused lotions, each one carefully applied, ensuring that anyone who laid eyes on him would see nothing but refinement and perfection.

When he was done, he turned his attention to his hair.

Xiangrui had never cared for long hair. Despite what some whispered, it had nothing to do with femininity. He simply preferred efficiency and control. Short hair was easy to maintain, easy to style, and—most importantly—never unruly.

He applied just the right amount of hair lotion, adjusted it once, then smiled at his reflection.

Perfect.

Only then did he step out of the bathroom, returning to the room where the maid stood quietly beside his breakfast, waiting for her lord to begin another day worthy of his magnificence.

He would have bothered to remember her name if not for the fact that she fell just short in the beauty department. Still, Xiangrui was not uncivilized. He gave her a brief nod as he settled into the cushioned chair and cut into the steak.

Perfect as always.

Once, years ago, a chef had overcooked his steak by three seconds. Three. Xiangrui had the man flogged publicly. Since then, every chef under his employ treated even the smallest detail as a matter of life and death. The result was evident in every bite.

As he ate, Xiangrui indulged in his favorite activity of the day—one he had only discovered a few weeks ago.

Listening to reports about the climbers infesting his city.

At first, it had merely been curiosity. Outsiders had not appeared in the pagoda for centuries, and climbers were, in the end, just fools attempting a suicidal ascent to the top of the tower. But some of them were… interesting. And there were so many reports, ledgers, summaries, and amusing anecdotes that it had quickly become entertainment.

So while he enjoyed his steak, the maid spoke.

“The climbers have had an interesting week, Your Lordship.”

Xiangrui raised an eyebrow, a silent command to continue.

“They have not only begun adapting better to the city and its laws,” she said carefully, “but they have also managed to co-own a shop.”

Xiangrui paused mid-bite.

“…How?”

“They used a resident as a proxy owner,” the maid replied. “From what we’ve gathered, the operation is actually being handled by a climber named Chen Ren, alongside a princess of the outside world called Yanyue.”

That made him stop chewing.

“They’ve introduced several unusual items into the city,” she continued, “and their sales over the past week have been… exceptional. So much so that we’ve already ordered samples of those items for you, Your Lordship.”

“Good,” he said lightly. “I’ll check them myself and see if they’re actually interesting. Climbers do love finding loopholes in laws that weren’t written with idiots in mind.”

He lifted the glass and took a slow drink of juice before setting it down again. “What else?”

The maid spoke at once. “Many of them are fighting outside the city, Your Lordship. Some are targeting specific groups, though any conflict within the city is being dealt with properly. Our jails are filling up quickly.”

Xiangrui nodded, unfazed. “And the rankers? How are they doing?”

Her expression went blank. “Two of them are dead.”

“From these attacks you mentioned?”

“One of them,” she replied. “The other died fighting a frost-horned sky ursar alone.”

Xiangrui gave a short, amused hum and cut into his steak again. “Climbers always think themselves invincible. Too proud to admit their limits, too foolish to retreat. At least they make for good entertainment.”

He swallowed and then added casually, “Have you gotten the smiths to work on a proper surveillance device? I would rather see the chaos than hear about it secondhand.”

The maid nodded. “They are working on it, Your Lordship, but such a device is complex. The smith says it will take more time.”

Xiangrui paused, chewing slowly, then clicked his tongue.

“Give him and his disciples Drowscorch Pills. They wouldn’t let them sleep for days,” he said flatly. “Tell them to finish it this week. I don’t care if they have anything important going on. They knew what it takes to work for me. I won’t wait any longer.”

The maid inclined her head without protest. “As you command.”

The rest of the meal passed smoothly after that. She updated him on minor matters within the castle—squabbles between residents, supply tallies, requests that bored him to tears. Nothing truly noteworthy surfaced.

The only thing that drew a faint spark of interest was a report of a particularly brutal fight in the arena on the second floor.

Xiangrui smiled to himself.

Perhaps I’ll go watch some battles later, he thought, taking another perfect bite. But felt mostly bored by the rest of the reports.

This was why Xiangrui often felt that being a city lord was such a tedious burden.

One had to listen to endless reports from subordinates, most of which were dull, predictable, and utterly lacking in excitement. Centuries passed in a strange way—both unbearably slow and terrifyingly fast. Cultivation no longer interested him. He was strong enough. Stronger than almost everyone who might ever challenge him. Power, once attained, lost its flavour.

What Xiangrui cared about now was engagement.

In the past few hundred years, he had tried everything. Women had grown boring—there was only so much one could explore in a body before novelty vanished. He had funded theatres, hoping for masterful storytellers, but none had risen to the occasion. His city was too prosperous, too orderly. Everyone lived decent, predictable lives.

They were born. They studied. They worked. They married. They died.

What was interesting about that?

There was no desperation, no madness, no brilliance born from suffering. Xiangrui had created a stable city, and stability did not give rise to great artists. It produced mediocrity. Clean, comfortable, uninspired mediocrity.

And now, without stories, his own life felt hollow.

That was why the climbers fascinated him.

They were chaos given flesh. Desperate, arrogant, ambitious fools throwing themselves into danger for power, legacy, and pride. For the first time in centuries, something unpredictable had entered his world, and Xiangrui intended to enjoy it fully.

He had no intention of travelling to the upper floors for entertainment. Everyone up there hated him anyway—resented how perfect, how untouchable he was. Let them rot in their envy.

He finished the last bite of his meal, wiped his lips delicately, and rose from his seat. Next on his schedule was something far more relaxing: a long, luxurious bath accompanied by an hour-long massage.

But before he could move toward the bathing chambers, a knock echoed through the room.

The maid immediately stepped forward, opened the door, and leaned in to whisper with a guard outside. When she returned, Xiangrui raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?” he asked lazily.

“Umm.. there are two climbers requesting an audience with you, Your Lordship.”

Xiangrui snorted. “Send them away. No climber is worthy of meeting me.”

The maid swallowed. “We tried, my lord, but they claimed they are an official delegation from the Kalian Empire, here to pay their respects.”

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***

Chen Ren felt painfully out of place.

Every place in his body was covered with gold. Golden robes clung to him like a bad decision he couldn’t undo. The headband binding his hair back was gold. The sandals on his feet were plated gold. Even the trim on his sleeves gleamed obnoxiously under the light. He felt less like a dignified envoy and more like a walking display piece dragged out of a vault.

On the way here, people had stared. No—gawked. Some outright pointed at him. If anyone looked like a clown, it was him.

Princess Yanyue, on the other hand, wore gold as if it had been made for her.

Her dress flowed naturally, hugging her figure in a way that was elegant rather than excessive, the fabric catching the light without screaming for attention. She had walked with effortless confidence, her posture straight, her steps unhurried—like the castle itself belonged to her already.

Chen Ren couldn’t help but notice how well it showed her curves.

He also couldn’t help but notice how the guards treated them.

Their gazes lingered a fraction too long on her. Their voices softened. Orders were delivered with more politeness than usual. They had even been allowed into a small waiting chamber instead of being kept standing in the corridor like other climbers.

It was all a very effective ploy.

As Chen Ren was thinking this—his eyes drifting a bit longer than he intended—Princess Yanyue suddenly spoke.

“What are you looking at, Sect Leader Chen?” she asked lightly. “Did I catch your fancy today?”

Chen Ren snapped his gaze upward immediately. “I’m not an idiot,” he said flatly. “Especially not enough to fancy you of all people.”

Her expression immediately changed and looked genuinely wounded. “Oh?” she said softly. “So I’m not pretty?”

Chen Ren sighed. “It’s the complete opposite, Princess.” He glanced at her briefly, then away again. “If I fancied you, I’d attract far too much attention. I’d also have to deal with the Emperor, and who knows how many young masters already lining up behind you. That sounds like a fast way to die.”

She tilted her head. “Wouldn’t that only happen if I fancied you back?”

Chen Ren looked at her properly this time and smiled.

“I actually think I could make you fancy me back, Princess,” he said. “I don’t doubt that at all.” He paused. “What I doubt is my ability to survive the consequences of your position afterward.”

Princess Yanyue froze.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, blinking, clearly caught off guard.

Before she could say anything, the door to the waiting room opened.

A guard stepped inside, his posture straight, gaze sharp as it moved between the two of them. “You may come with me,” he said. “Lord Xiangrui has graciously decided to hear what you have to say, and to accept the gifts you have brought.”

Chen Ren met the princess’s eyes and smiled.

Without another word, both of them rose and followed the guard.

Truthfully, Chen Ren hadn’t been fully confident that this would work. The plan had relied too heavily on ego, vanity, and timing—things that were never guaranteed. But he had gambled and it had worked.

Though, just reaching this point had required him to stop holding back.

As they walked, Chen Ren quietly pulled up his rankings.

He had been pushed back into the hundreds recently, ever since he poured everything into the shop. Now, though, he sat comfortably in first place.

[Chen Ren - Rank 1 - 25,000 tokens.]

There was a clear gap between him and the other climbers now.

Han Qingshi sat at second with 19000 tokens, far behind. Princess Yanyue had climbed to third after taking her share of the shop’s profits. That alone must have caused a storm among the climbers—forcing many to reassess what was going on and notice the sheer amount of wealth flowing through that single shop.

But there was no other way to do this.

City Lord Xiangrui wouldn’t meet nobodies.

If Chen Ren had still been ranked in the hundreds, Xiangrui would have dismissed him outright—even if he claimed to represent the Kalian Empire. Rank, here, was status. Tokens were proof. And Chen Ren needed both on display.

The guard led them onward.

Marble-floored hallways stretched ahead, polished so perfectly that reflections shimmered beneath their feet. Gold-lined pillars rose along the walls, inlaid with intricate patterns that pulsed faintly with qi. They climbed another set of stairs, then another—

And when they finally reached the top, Chen Ren froze for a heartbeat.

The wealth before him was overwhelming more than extravagant. It felt as though the castle they had climbed through until now had merely been a shell.

What lay beyond it was something else entirely.

The floors beneath their feet were forged from polished gold, smooth as glass and warm with a constant, circulating flow of qi. The walls shimmered in layered hues—gold leaf over white marble, inlaid with veins of crystal that caught the light and scattered it into soft rainbows across the hall. Towering statues lined the corridors, each carved from rare materials: jade beasts frozen mid-roar, silver-winged figures caught in ascension, and gilded warriors locked in eternal battle poses.

Paintings hung between them, framed in elaborate gold filigree, each one rendered with impossible detail. The ceiling arched high above, painted with scenes of conquest, prosperity, and divine favor, all threaded together with faintly glowing runes.

It was opulence without restraint.

Even Princess Yanyue—who had spent her entire life walking the halls of the imperial palace—slowed her steps, her expression betraying a flicker of genuine astonishment.

As they moved forward, Chen Ren noticed something else.

The portraits weren’t random.

Every single one depicted the same man.

City Lord Xiangrui stood at the gates of the city, robes billowing as citizens knelt before him in one of them. In another, he battled a colossal beast, golden qi blazing around his body as the creature fell beneath his strike. There was even one where he lounged on a throne, two women draped across his legs, his smile relaxed and self-satisfied.

The man was obsessed with himself.

Chen Ren was certain that if they explored deeper into the castle, they’d find statues of Xiangrui as well, probably in multiple heroic poses.

After nearly five minutes of walking through this golden excess, the guard finally came to a stop before a massive door. He pushed it open and stepped aside.

“Go inside,” he said coldly. “And behave yourselves. If we see anything odd, you won’t be leaving this castle in one piece.”

Chen Ren ignored the threat and followed behind Princess Yanyue without hesitation.

The room beyond was just as lavish.

Gold-plated flooring spread beneath a wide seating area furnished with plush sofas upholstered in deep crimson fabric, embroidered with golden thread. A low table of polished crystal sat at the center, its surface reflecting the light like still water. Decorative pillars stood along the walls, each capped with softly glowing gemstones that bathed the room in warm radiance.

Yet despite all of that, Chen Ren’s eyes were drawn to only one thing.

Xiangrui.

The city lord sat at the center of the room, relaxed against an ornate chair that looked more like a throne than furniture. One leg was crossed over the other, a goblet resting loosely in his hand. He didn’t look at them when they entered, his expression calm, almost bored, as though their presence was a minor interruption rather than an event.

And surprisingly, he looked exactly like the portraits.

Chen Ren had expected exaggeration, artistic flattery stretched beyond reality. Instead, the man before him was undeniably handsome—sharp features, flawless skin, and eyes that carried an effortless confidence. Every detail of him looked curated, perfected, as if even time itself had been forced to acknowledge his vanity.

Chen Ren met Princess Yanyue’s gaze.

She gave a small nod.

Taking a step forward, Chen Ren bowed respectfully and spoke, his voice steady.

“I am Chen Ren, an advisor to Princess Yanyue of the Kalian Empire,” he said. “We are here to pay our respects to the great Xiangrui of Goldspire City.”

***

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